


The Day We Misplaced A Whole Goddamn President

by snarry_splitpea



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Come Marking, Come as Lube, Crack, F/F, F/M, Female Masturbation, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Restraints, Sex Pollen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 11:50:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10306763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snarry_splitpea/pseuds/snarry_splitpea
Summary: Seraphina Picquery must investigate her own kidnapping after the MACUSA manages to fall to pieces in the span of two days.  ((Sex Pollen fic treated as zombie parody fic. Enjoy how ridiculous this is!))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seasonsgredence](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seasonsgredence/gifts).



Graves had hoped Madam President was too embarrassed to document the incident.  Or, well... the series of incidents.  Yet, when he was finally out of the infirmary, he was immediately called into an interrogation room.  Immediately seated across from none other than Seraphina Picquery, herself.  A clipboard slammed down in front of him as the woman fought to school her rage.

He looked up sharply, into eyes which almost dance with some internal fury. With fire.  Picquery’s chest heaves, every breath short, making her nostrils flare slightly with each exhale.  Her mouth works, something akin to disgust, and she raises her chin slightly before she speaks.

"Percival..."

Graves took a deep breath.  He knew she was about to ask the question he'd been dreading since the moment his senses returned.

"Percival Graves, what happened the night of June 18th, 192..."

* * *

 

Graves and Goldstein were one hell of a team, but they weren’t particularly well-versed in potions (and definitely not in no-maj concoctions).  So, when Percival and Tina cornered the presumably non-magical occultist, they both assumed that the powder she blew into their faces had only been cocaine.  Cocaine was pink, right?

Not that being high off their asses would have been any better for chasing a criminal down.  But it would have been preferable to this.

They fought for a moment not to breathe in the chalky dust as it floated around them and coated their skin. Coughing and leaning into one another as they still pressed in close to the woman they'd been chasing.  They still had their wands poised to attack.  Graves had already bound the woman’s ankles, his unspoken _Incarcerous_ sending thick rope twirling around them even as she fled.  If they could just -see- her through the cloud of powder, they’d have her in handcuffs and back at MACUSA HQ in no time.

The powder suddenly condensed into two whirling ribbons and shot straight into both their mouths. They fell into a coughing heap, imagining they’d truly been poisoned.  Ever the hero, Graves crawled toward the woman he’d incapacitated so he could at least turn her in before he died.

Their prisoner watched them cough.  She laughed, stood up, kicked Graves’ ropes from her ankles, and then -fucking apparated- away!  Graves scrambled faster as if he could catch her in the instant she was gone.  He looked back over his shoulder and then growled at Tina’s stunned expression.  

“God damnit, Goldstein!” 

“I’m sorry, sir, I,” Tina started as she pulled herself up from the floor and skittered over to help Graves off the ground.  He snatched his arm out of her grip and glared up at her as he moved to stand on his own.  “Sir, I followed all relevant protocol in my research of the cult and their lea...”

“Tina, -fuck- protocol!  We probably have no fucking idea where she went... considering you didn’t even know she was an -actual- fucking witch!”

Goldstein flinched at the repeated cursing, then frowned, “If we apparate to her home, now, she may still be packing!  Maybe she's left witnesses alive, this ti...”

Derisive glare followed by rolling eyes. “No.  We’re going to the infirmary.”

“What happened to fuck protocol, Mr. Graves?” Tina asked, the steely determination evident in her voice.  She was itching to follow the witch they'd nearly captured.  Itching to right her wrongs as soon as possible.

“Language, Goldstein,” Graves sneered down at his partner.  “We’re going to the infirmary.  I’m not dying at a suspect’s goddamn hideout when the rest of the MACUSA doesn’t know she’s a witch and should be approached with extreme caution.”

When he grabbed her hand, he realized how hot they both were.  Fevered, even.  

They both passed out in the hall outside the MACUSA infirmary.

* * *

 

Seraphina nodded at Graves' terse recounting of events.  She realized, without him explicitly saying so, that Tina's reports had been inaccurate.  She idly wondered why he was still trying to save his impulsive partner from termination.  After all, this wasn't the first time Tina's antics had put his whole department in danger.  Though it was the first time Seraphina, herself, and suffered for Tina's ignorance.  Perhaps Graves feared Tina would be tried as a criminal instead of just fired.

Seraphina sighed.  Percival was an old friend.  They'd met at Ilvermorny.  If nothing else, the man simply knew far more about her than she wanted him to.  He was a fine auror and director, or at least he had been up until this point.  Seraphina sighed and made a conscious effort to soften her expression.

"I'm not going implicate your partner, Percival," Picquery stated firmly.  Her hand going across the table to give the man some reassurance by squeezing his.  Neither of them were touchy-feely types.  Well, under normal circumstances, at least.

He looked visibly relieved for the few seconds between her reassuring him that Tina would not be put on trial... and her asking him to leave and send Tina in.

* * *

 

Tina, as Graves had feared, was far more generous with details.

She'd realized something was off the moment she woke up.  The paper-thin infirmary blanket was far too hot against her skin.  She shook it off, frantically.  The fabric gliding against her as it fell was immediately invigorating.  There was some unnamed stress zipping through her senses.  Making her heart race and her breaths short.  Her nerves catching flame at every sensation.

When Tina stood, the world felt both brighter and hazier.  The cold tile beneath her feet was a welcome feeling.  Not only as a relief from the heat she now realized was emanating from her own body but also just the weight of her body meeting the floor.  

Everything felt so different. Felt so... more.  She could feel more. Did that make sense?

The first step she took was the first indication that her thighs were slick from more than just sweat.  Her brain, still at rational for the moment, insisted that she get to a bathroom quickly.  Her body, however, thrilled at every step forward.  She couldn't manage to walk faster and definitely couldn't run.  She leaned against a nearby windowsill to steady her shaking steps.  There was no way she could give up and fall to the floor, right there. But she was shivering at the... Oh Merlin, it was pleasure.  Tina's arousal had been so all-encompassing that it had taken too long for her to realize what it was.  Her nipples felt every swish and billow of her hospital gown like a lick or caress.  Her sex, wet and throbbing, ached as her thighs slid against one another.

She wanted.  Wanted to be held. Wanted to be fucked.  Tina pressed an index finger to her own lips and moaned at just the slide of her fingernail against the skin, there.  She opened her mouth into a gasping circle and slid the pad of her thumb against her bottom lip while the other finger still dug into her top one.  She moaned again and leaned back against the windowsill.  She could worry about the wetness between her legs, later.  Right now, she thought she'd cum just from touching her own mouth.

She palmed her lips softly, then.  The slide of moisture against her hand thrilling in its own way.  She wanted to put her other hand elsewhere but -knew- she couldn't let go of the windowsill.  -Knew- she couldn't allow herself to fall to the cold, hard floor.

Tina stuck her index finger into her mouth.  Sucked on it.  Moaned as the wet heat behind her teeth eased over the digit.  She added her middle and ring fingers.  Fucked the three of them against her tongue as she moaned.  It wasn't long before she hiked up her hospital gown to satisfy another warm, wet hole with three fingers.

She came hard and quickly.  Felt the mounting tension of orgasm followed by the sweet release.  Her desire audibly dripped to the floor and she finally fell.  The hard tile bruising her hip as she landed.  But the pain didn't register as anything but a mild distraction from returning arousal.

She couldn't stop herself from getting off, again.  ...and again.

Tina knew something was wrong but not what to do about it.  She knew she needed something else to sate herself.  Yet, she couldn't manage to think on it long between orgasms.  Her mind only cleared for a few seconds before she was gone, again.  

Swimming from sensation to sensation with no real reprieve.


	2. Chapter 2

Tina paused for a long time.  Her face red and fingers clutching at the papers in front of her. She hadn't looked the president in the eye at all since their greeting. Seraphina couldn't tell if the other woman was too embarrassed to go on or too aroused.  She didn't want to deal with either complication. 

"Take a ten minute break, Goldstein.  Go for a walk.  Cool off," Seraphina suggested as she plucked the papers from Tina's hands.  

Tina seemed to only then realize that she'd had a death-grip on the crumpled reports.  

She let go with mild shock.  Was her body still doing things without her permission?  

She looked up at the president with mild horror and Seraphina kept her face neutral while strongly considering making Tina's state Graves' problem.  She banished that thought, immediately.  Hadn't they all been through enough, already?

"Ms. Goldstein, Send in Abernathy on your way out."

* * *

 

Abernathy had clocked into a horror show, that morning.  Queenie tugged on his tie a little harder than usual. She rubbed her free hand along his cheek and leaned forward.  

He'd been sure the woman would kiss him and, panicking, he'd ducked.  His tie slipping out of her fingers with the evasive movement.  Though he noted that her breath had smelled so sweet.  Like sugared roses.  He almost regretted not letting himself taste whatever tea or sweets she'd had on her lips.

Almost.  Abernathy was a married man, after all.

So, he'd been truly horrified when Queenie followed him towards the elevator. The 

MACUSA had its fair share of tempting individuals.  He'd just never had temptation saunter up behind him while moaning his last name.  Thankfully, her slow saunter was no match for his terrified march.  Whether or not the arousal that stirred in him as he leaned against the wall of the elevator had been stirred by Queenie's moaning or the first sign of the witch's curse taking over his body, he couldn't say.  He just knew that an erection underneath his trousers was enough of a distraction on a good day, and this was a day where the elevator goblin was obviously late or absent and he had to figure out how to work the lift, himself.

Abernathy dodged similar incidents in the hallway.  Mostly custodians, infirmary employees, and interns, he noted. Night staff mingling with early morning staff in the most debauched ways.  They were either clamoring after him or already busy with one another.  He wanted to be offended.  Perhaps, deep down, he had been.  He just knew that the longer he fought to get away from his coworkers, the harder it was to convince himself not to touch them.  He was so hard it ached and the things they were saying... offering.  

Even the elevator goblin had shouted from an open doorway that Abernathy had a "hot little ass."  If his face wasn't already beet-red from the heat coursing through his body, he'd have blushed at the compliment.  After all, a man that stood at only about ass-height to most humans would definitely be something like a connoisseur.

Abernathy took a deep breath and sprinted the rest of the way to his office.  He slammed the door shut behind himself and breathed heavily with both exertion and relief. He pawed at his cock through starched, black trousers.  If he could just give it a few tugs, maybe he'd feel fine.  Of course, that was the arousal talking.  What man gave himself half a hand job and continued his day as if nothing had happened?  He needed to cum and the idea of jerking off in his office was, for the first time in his life, not at all repulsive.

Distantly, he knew that he'd always avoided even entertaining the -thought- of blaspheming the hallowed halls of the MACUSA.  This was his -job- and his job was his -life-  ...perhaps even moreso than his kids and wife.  What terrible man lost all reason and pushed his pants to his ankles, perched one socked foot on his desk, shoved a finger into his own ass and jerked himself to completion twice?

What terrible, awful, truly disgusting man did all that and still found himself half-hard beneath his slacks?  He'd finally pulled them back up, determined to get to the bottom of what had overtaken both him and his coworkers.

There was a note from Queenie on one of the shiny slips of stationary she kept in her own desk.  She let him know that she was staying in the infirmary overnight to wait for her sister, who was under quarantine, and wouldn't be at work in the morning.  She'd drawn a little doodle of Percival Graves with his heavy eyebrows lilting downward at the outer corners and a thermometer hanging from his mouth.  "P.S. Percy's sick, too.  

Maybe you can stop by and visit in the morning.  I know how much you care for him."

How would Queenie know anything about how much he cared for Mr. Graves?  Sure, he was in the habit of sucking up to the man.  But that was just Abernathy being a good employee.  No, Queenie couldn't possibly know how he daydreamed about Percival Graves giving him a little extra attention, at work.  How Percival Graves was the reason he'd wondered, in the past, whether or not it was okay to quickly rub himself to completion in his own office chair.  Percival Graves was... if Abernathy wasn't married, of course, the man of Abernathy's dreams.  And Abernathy was married.  So, he had no particular feelings about Percival Graves.  Considering his marriage, and all.

Just thinking about the man set him to rushing down the hall.  This time, armed with an umbrella he'd left in his office a week ago.  He batted at new assailants with no reservations.  If he was going to fall to pieces, again, he could at least be out of his office.  If he was going to have any luck in figuring out what was wrong with him and the others, he'd need to ask the man that always knew what to do:

Percival Graves.

The infirmary doors slammed shut behind him and he shoved his umbrella through the door handles to keep it locked.  He'd lost his wand at some point and at least he knew some practical solutions to simpler problems.  Thankfully, after shaking the door a few times and crying out his name, the few uniformed employees that had followed him began to touch each other.  The lights flickered ominously as Abernathy slowed to creep through the waiting room.  If people were done chasing him, he was done calling attention to himself.  He wondered who might lurk, up ahead. There was no receptionist at the desk.  No doctors whispering in hallways as he snuck by windowed rooms and locked closets.  He found no patients in the dormitory.

As he checked both public restrooms and found nobody, Abernathy was finally ready to conclude that nobody was there to be found.

Then he heard it.

Loud, open-mouthed moaning.  Like some pleasured wail coming from a man in the throes of ecstasy.

A deep, rasping voice that seemed to crackle against Abernathy's eardrums and set his already torched nerves on fire.  Even without whatever sickness had taken him, this voice would have made him hard.  His cock, fully erect for the third time in less than an hour, gushed precum into his underwear.  He bit back the urge to moan, himself.  He didn't know what state the Directer of Magical Security was truly in.  If he made a sound, at this point, and Percival lunged at him... well, Abernathy feared he'd give in.  

Completely overthrow his marriage vows.  Completely lose himself in fantasies he'd held onto for far too long.

Yet, when he peeked behind the last door at the end of the hall, Abernathy couldn't summon the guilt that usually kept him from indulging his miscellany of urges. He'd finally found Percival Graves.  The imposing man was tied to a leather desk chair in nothing but a shredded hospital gown and socks.  His wand sticking out of one hand and cock sticking up, just as rigid, from between his thick, muscular thighs.  The man was a mess.  His hair limp and wet against his forehead.  The intimidating cock twitched and throbbed with every beat of the man's heart.  There was evidence along his chest and thighs of prior orgasms and his balls drew up as if another was approaching.

"Director Graves!" Abernathy yelped as his cock throbbed visibly beneath his pants.  

Percival's eyes followed the movement. His gaze ravenous.  Abernathy's hand slid over the aching rod and crushed the head with a grip that was meant to stave off an orgasm, but instead called it forward with knee-shattering force.  He crumpled to the ground a few feet from Percival Graves, his cock painting the insides of his black slacks as he writhed and moaned.

When Abernathy finally looked up, he saw that Percival's cock was similarly affected by his display.  Jumping as orgasm rattled through Graves and shooting white slashes across the man's half-bare chest.  Graves glared hungrily down at him when he was done.  Licked his lips as if he wanted to eat the Permits Manager alive.

Temporarily lucid, Abernathy ignored the mess in his pants to approach the director.  

Cleaning spells could wait.  "I'm going to untie you."

"Abernathy..." the man moaned as the fluid his cock couldn't seem to stop leaking continued to dribble onto the sticky, leather chair.  "...don't touch... me. I tied myself up to keep from passing this on. This is my fault... Tina's..."

Abernathy listened as Graves panted out half of an explanation.  Told him that he'd woke up to find the infirmary in chaos. The scenes he described matched what Abernathy had already witnessed in the hall.  They both tried to come up with a solution before the arousal overtook them, again.  "We have to keep anyone else from coming into the building, Director Graves." 

Percival didn't manage to speak, again.  His cock throbbed where it hung between his thighs.  The great, thick beast lurching upward into another intimidating erection.  

Abernathy had never taken anything so big inside of himself, but his mind could think of nothing else as Percival twitched before him.  Though he'd followed the instruction not to touch for a few minutes.  Long enough for them to talk.  He'd already forgotten the command.  His mind only thought of cock.  This cock that Abernathy had imagined over and over again through the years, but never so big.  Never so pink and full and gorgeous.

He hadn't thought to remove his clothes before climbing onto Percival's lap and dropping his tongue into the man's mouth. Percival immediately started to suck on him as if he'd been offered a cock to pleasure.  Somehow, Abernathy's lips were so sensitive that the sucking was likely to bring him off, anyway. He didn't care at all for the state of his clothes as the clammy wetness coating Percival's body clung to his own.  In fact, he could feel Percival's cock smearing moisture along the crevice of his ass as he humped himself against Graves' belly.

Abernathy hadn't imagined that kissing anyone could ever feel so good. His fingers carded into the black and grey hair he'd never imagined he'd get to touch outside his dreams. Graves moaned against his lips before biting them.  He was sure his mouth was more sensitive than usual and considered taking Percival's cock into it.  But with the heavy organ throbbing underneath him, he knew there was something else his body wanted, first.

"Spell my pants off," Abernathy moaned into Graves' hair as the man dipped his face down to nip at Abernathy's neck. "My shirt, too!  Everything!"

He'd dropped his own wand in his office or some hallway or another and getting off of his superior's lap to manually remove everything just felt like it would take an eternity.  

He wanted nothing to interrupt the way Graves bit into his throat like some hungry animal.  He knew it would bruise him.  Knew, even through the haze of arousal that the harsh suction and teething hurt like nothing else he'd ever felt.  But with his cock hard and dripping, he could only find pleasure in Percival's abuse.

"Pushy," Graves growled into his neck before Abernathy suddenly felt the cool draft of the room against his hot skin.  His sock-garters and socks remained and Abernathy wondered if the man had some kind of fetish for the items.

"N...no sir. I just need you inside of me," Abernathy cooed as Graves began to lick him.  

"Another command?" Graves asked as he bit down on Abernathy's collarbone.  He laughed around his gripping teeth as Abernathy cried out.

Abernathy cringed only momentarily and then the bloom of searing pain blossomed across every inch of his body as pleasured heat.  He took one hand out of Percival's hair to tug at his own nipple.  Twisting and tugging with aim to bruise himself.  He'd never been rough with his wife.  Never had her be rough with him.  Merlin, if today was any indication, he'd be asking her to slap and kick him every night for the rest of his life.

Mister Graves' gruff panting against his collarbone and throat coupled with the licking was reminiscent of something primal.  Abernathy wondered how much of Percival's behavior was the potion's influence and how much of it was purely Percy.  If they met again, after fixing this, would Percival whimper as Abernathy angled his hips so that the head of that huge cock met Abernathy's rarely touched hole?  Would Percival huff in little panting breaths as Abernathy drops his weight onto him and swallows him up far too fast and far too hungrily?  Would Percival leak enough precum to make the way slick and easy as Abernathy rides him?

Not meaning to be demanding, but unable to stop himself, Abernathy grabbed the director's head and kissed him hard and deep as he bounced on the man's lap.  He couldn't hold himself back if he wanted to, but wondered if the confessions he moaned into Percival's hair as he continued to fuck himself on Percy's lap could be stopped.  The words came out unbidden.  Words about how he'd always wanted this.  How he'd dreamed of sitting on this cock and sucking this cock and being fucked into a desk by this cock.

Much to his surprise, Percival simply threw his own head back and let him have his way.  

Groaned his response as he came once and then again in Abernathy's nearly virginally tight ass.  "I know, Abernathy.  I could always sense it on you.  You're not discreet at all when cock's on your mind."

The curse breaking was like a dam crashing down.  Abernathy's body went from hot, infinite, massive and overflowing... to numb.  His mind blanked and all he knew was the sudden crushing weight of too many touches and too many smells.  He wanted to shower.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to sleep.

The sound of Percivals voice was distant and indecipherable as Abernathy stood and trudged into the hall.  He couldn't see.  Everything was too bright.  Too far away.

He wasn't sure how far he made it before he passed out clutching a random umbrella that was laying on the floor.


End file.
